


A Trick of the Light

by oldmountainsoul



Series: The Dying Stars [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmountainsoul/pseuds/oldmountainsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bastila will redeem a Sith Lord, whether Revan likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trick of the Light

 Bastila took great pains to go unnoticed on her way to Revan’s cell; she had trained as a sentinel after all, though she hadn’t practiced those skills since her Battle Meditation had been discovered. She was to be a weapon of another kind, after that.

 

The Council had chosen to enact her plan, and she had little time before they would begin the ritual. She had to speak with Revan first, just one last time.

 

She would give the former Dark Lord of the Sith a final chance to choose to redeem herself. After that… There was no other option, and she could not just let her die. She refused to allow it, to even consider it. She was determined to find whatever good might still be left in Revan. And if the Sith would not recognize it herself, Bastila would drag it out of her and back into the Light, kicking and screaming if need be. But first she would be given a choice.

 

 _Revan…_ she whispered across their bond as she opened the sealed security door, taking a seat at her bedside.

 

The Sith Lord’s eyes fluttered open in spite of the heavy sedatives she’d been dosed with that morning.

 

“Jedi,” she croaked. “Well, well, well.”

 

“I’m here to help you,” Bastila said stiffly.

 

“Do tell me that involves freeing me from these blasted restraints so I can have a nice, friendly _chat_ with your masters.”

 

“Threats of violence won’t help your case, Revan.”

 

“Threaten violence, _me_ _?_ I would never,” Revan gasped in mock offense. “I’m as harmless and well-meaning as you are, Bastila Shan," she said, flashing her a toothy grin.

 

 _Baring her teeth, more like it,_ Bastila thought.

 

Even this shadow of a woman deserved redemption, at least a chance, before what Bastila and the Council were going to put her through.

 

“I highly doubt that,” she said carefully.

 

 “Oh, so you do have your _doubts,_ then? Is that what brings you here so very alone? Or do you have other motivations for committing high treason?”

 

Bastila sputtered-- she hadn’t _considered_ that this could be interpreted as a treasonous act-- one that her masters would frown upon, surely, but… She _had_ made sure to come when she wouldn’t be observed. She had come alone, against orders, against all _reason_ , even.

 

_No. Calm yourself, this is just a game to her._

 

“I have every right to be here, Revan. My position is not in question; _yours_ is,” she sniffed, straightening her shoulders, puffing herself up to her full height. She _refused_ to be intimidated or swayed by the antics of the woman before her.

 

“Oh? Am I finally to be relieved of this torturous mattress?” Revan replied dryly.

 

“I am _here_ to offer you one last chance to redeem yourself, Revan,” Bastila retorted.

 

“How utterly predictable of you. Tell me, what did you expect to happen when you came here, skulking about your enclave? What could you possibly offer me, when I have earned the adulation and honors of billions? When I have held the galaxy by its throat, and crushed armies and nations beneath my feet? What could you possibly offer me, that I have not already considered and deemed unworthy of me?”

 

What _could_ Bastila offer, that the Republic, that her masters had not? What had she to give, that could induce a Sith Lord to return to the light? And of what she could, what would she be willing to give?

 

She hadn’t thought of _what_ she would give-- only that the offer should be made, that even Revan deserved one last chance to return to the light as herself, before being washed away completely, before the woman the Council would make her to be, did so for her.

 

 What could she give?

 

 “You have lost everything, Revan. You have no future, no freedoms, no friends--”

 

 “How lovely of you to remind me,” Revan muttered, rolling her eyes.

 

 “I can offer you nothing more than my trust, and perhaps, if you prove worthy of it, my friendship, my freedoms, my future. Our fates are intertwined, and our destinies are already shared. But I can make you no promises _unless you return to the Light_ ,” Bastila pleaded. “There is good in you still, Revan. I would like to know the woman who saved my life.”

 

“Your concern is almost touching, Jedi. But the woman who _saved your life_ and the woman who has laid waste to your precious Republic are one and the same,” Revan snarled.

 

“And that woman holds the same power to end the war she started,” Bastila retorted.

 

 “I might like you, Jedi-- but I don’t like anyone that much. I may have _nothing,_ as you so kindly pointed out, but I still have my pride. I will not have that taken from me. Not by you, not by the Republic, not by our bond in the Force, and _certainly not by your Council._ ”

 

“Is your pride really worth so much? Does it really mean more to you than your life? Than your beliefs? Than the opportunity to stop Malak?”

 

The Sith ground her teeth. “It has to be worth something,” she snapped.

 

“You have lost everything you have ever worked for, Revan. Here is your chance to build something new. Is that not worth your pride?”

 

 Revan sulked, glaring back and not deigning to reply.

 

 _Well then._ Bastila would simply have to try another approach. Revan may have her pride, she may have been ruthless and cruel, but even the Dark Lord of the Sith could be moved.

“ _Please,_ ” she said softly, reaching out to take the other woman’s hand. “Please, Revan. You have the opportunity to save countless lives, why would you not take it?”

 

Revan sighed, turning away from the touch. “Do you know why I started this war?”

 

“Because you have been all but consumed and enthralled by the Dark Side,” Bastila said.

 

Revan twitched with annoyance. “Don’t insult me. My actions and my choices are and will always be my own. No, Jedi, it is because the greatest threat to the galaxy is not me, or Malak, or the Mandalorians. It has never been. It is the weakness of the Republic. It is glutted with incompetence and fed by corruption--and it will fall. If not to Malak’s forces, then to its own instability. And when it falls--and it _will_ fall-- _‘countless lives’_ will be lost with it. There must be a new order, if the galaxy is to be preserved. If the Republic, which has stood for more than 20,000 years can be felled by the actions of one woman, then perhaps it should be.”

 

“Then why bother saving it in the first place? Why not wait as the Council instructed you? Why risk your life and earn their ire?”

 

 “I am an ambitious and a spiteful creature, Jedi. I fought the Mandalorians because I could, because I knew others would follow, and that no one, not even your Council could stand in my way. I am subject to nothing more than my own whims and desires.”  Revan laughed bitterly. “‘If I could conquer the Republic, why shouldn’t I? If I could rule the galaxy, what would stand in my way?’” she said, smiling wryly. “It would seem that the answer to those questions is _you,_ Bastila Shan.”

 

“And your ambitions, all your spite and your whims-- they have all failed you,” Bastila said simply.

 

“Indeed they have. I had expected Malak to keep his sense of honor, and I was mistaken. I expected to die, rather than ever be captured and humiliated so, and I was mistaken. I rather like you, Bastila Shan. But the Republic, and your Jedi-- they will fail you. Just as they have failed so many others before you. They will break you, if it suits them. For your sake, I hope I am mistaken.”

 

“You are mistaken. You do not know the Jedi anymore, Revan. You are spiteful and cynical, and perhaps you have reason to be.”

 

_“‘Perhaps?’”_

 

 Bastila’s brow furrowed, her patience wearing thin. Still she pressed. “Let go of your anger, Revan, while you still have the chance.” The Masters would be gathering by now. Even if Revan agreed to her terms, there might not be time to stop the ritual. But still she had to try.

 

“I would rather kiss Malak’s boots and beg for his favor than _ever_ be a dog of your Council again,” Revan hissed.

 

“Then we are at an impasse. You’ve made your decision clear, Revan.”

 

 Bastila froze-- a massive surge of Force almost knocked her off her feet as it rushed into the room. Her masters had begun the ritual.

 

 “And it seems the Council has made theirs,” she said softly.

 

Revan too felt the wave, her face contorting with rage, “So this was your plan?” she snarled. “If you could not change my mind, they would do it _for me?”_

 

Bastila stiffened. It was one thing to suggest what she had thought would be a peaceful solution-- it was another thing entirely to see her plan unfold. “I am sorry, you deserve more dignity than this. But you have left us with no choice.”

 

“There is _always_ a choice, Jedi,” Revan spat. She had broken out in a cold sweat, shaking with the effort of keeping the entire Jedi Council at bay. “You cannot take from me what I have already thrown away-- _I will not be humiliated like this._ You will _not_ \-- _you will take nothing from me._ You cannot take my mind if I destroy it first.”

 

“Wait! Stop! You’ll hurt yourself-- _Stop!”_ Bastila leapt to her feet, reaching out through their bond and taking Revan’s face in her hands. Revan’s mind roared, crackling with lightning, whipping like wind and waves into a maelstrom inside her, nearly three decades of memories rapidly slipping away through Bastila’s fingers as she tried to find something, _anything_ to cling to.

 

Gone. All of it-- just… _Gone._

 

Even with their bond to help her, there was nothing left.  Revan had fainted once she finished her final act of spite, sleeping like the dead with her face still cradled in Bastila’s hands. “There is good in you still. I know it,” she whispered, pouring every ounce of goodness she could muster into the woman beside her. 

The Council could strip away all that made the woman the Dark Lord of the Sith; Revan could destroy herself out of spite. But Bastila would cling to the hope of the woman who saved her life, and she would rebuild her into what she knew Revan could be.


End file.
